Read our current issue by clicking on the cover below. Read Light‘s poems of the week
Poems of the Week
Common Property
by Dan Campion
“Fly brain breakthrough ‘huge leap’ to unlock human mind”
—BBC
Drosophila, you’re just like us!
We’re merely you, scaled up!
Except that while we swat and cuss,
You swarm our sherbet cup.
In a Nutshell
by Chase Keller
“By recommending that children avoid exposure to peanuts until age 3, doctors
inadvertently turned a rare issue into a major health problem.”
—The Wall Street Journal
When I was a child, the doc would command me
to watch out for cookies and Halloween candy.
“And just to be safe, keep an EpiPen handy,”
he’d tell me. “No ifs, ands, or buts.”
Now I can’t have snacks without reading the label.
I’m banished for life to the peanut-free table.
My story is sad, but it’s also a fable:
no glory can come without guts!
If I could embark on a time travel mission
I’d go back and fire that pediatrician.
And when he asked why, I would cite his position:
“You’re right, I’m allergic to nuts.”
The Windmills of His Mind
by Steven Kent
“Boris Johnson: We considered ‘aquatic raid’ on Netherlands to seize Covid vaccine”
—The Guardian
A plot was hatched at Number 10
By BoJo and his Merry Men
To cross the Channel late at night
And steal vaccine shots—crazy, right?
In retrospect, one has to laugh:
It’s not his worst idea by half.
What Should Have Have Happened
by Julia Griffin
Oklahoma resident Kody Adams “accused of stealing ambulance to drive to stolen-car court hearing”
—The Guardian
One Mr. Adams stole a car,
And so he had a stolen-car court hearing.
Because the place was very far,
And judgment hour was nearing,
He had to steal an ambulance,
Required because he stole a car,
And so he had a stolen-car court hearing.
You know the irksome way things are:
The ambulance lacked steering,
And so he stole a minibus,
To take him from the ambulance,
Required because he stole a car,
And so he had a stolen-car court hearing.
Bizarre, alas, attracts bizarre:
The bus soon started veering,
And so he stole an army truck,
Because he’d dumped the minibus,
By which he’d left the ambulance,
Required because he stole a car,
And so he had a stolen-car court hearing.
This next you’ll read with mouth ajar.
The truck went crazy, rearing,
And so he stole a private plane,
Abandoning the army truck
He’d used to quit the minibus,
By which he’d left the ambulance,
Required because he stole a car,
And so he had a stolen-car court hearing.
Our Kody was a sort of star:
You can’t refrain from cheering
When after all he went on foot
Because he’d crashed the private plane
Which fell upon the army truck
Which rolled into the minibus
Which knocked downhill the ambulance
Which made the judge forget the car
And let him off the stolen-car court hearing.
Mark of Distinction
by Steven Urquhart Bell
“Cyclist Sir Mark Cavendish: It will be nice to race as a Knight Commander”
—Evening Standard
It’s nice to hear he doesn’t plan to quit,
But won’t the armor slow him down a bit?
Gates of Parasites
by Alex Steelsmith
“Flight attendants are speaking out against ‘gate lice’… passengers who hover around the gate
like insects before it’s their turn to board… However, some defended [the practice]… ‘My son,
who was on a… trip from LAS to (O’Hare international airport)… [would have benefited from it].’”
—New York Post
Readily, steadily,
gate lice in terminals
opportunistically
gather and stare.
Though they are everywhere,
airport authorities
ought to be keeping them
out of O’Hair.
C’Est La Villa Vie
by Mike Mesterton-Gibbons
“Stranded cruise ship finally sails out of Belfast Lough”
—BBC
Cruise patrons, poised to circumnavigate
Earth’s oceans, weathered four months not at sea,
Stuck waiting for repair jobs by the late
Titanic’s shipyard on their Villa Vie.
Last week, at last, their liner sailed away
As far as near the mouth of Belfast Lough.
Views from this spot may not be what they pay
In spades for. Its more-scenic-than-the-dock
Location left the cruisers sighing, “C’est
La vie.” They’re philosophical. They’ll wait
At anchor happily to spend each day
Vacationing till twenty twenty-eight—
If no more hiccups strand them far from sea,
Expectant, sighing “C’Est La Villa Vie.”
(For more witty poems, read our current issue or visit our Poems of the Week archive)